In The Shadows
by Eyes Wings Blades
Summary: A gentleman never betrays a lady's honour. Hitomi has to salvage hers, protect her husband's, all the while keeping out of the Fanelian King's reach.
1. In The Shadows

A/N: Hello all. This is Suils Saifir here! I can't access my account so I'm uploading this on our joint account.

Yes this is M rated. Le Gasp. Thanks to Jav-chan for betaing and pushing me to write things out of my comfort zone. This has notions of unsavoury things, some people are slightly OOC, whispers of Allen bashing (what's new ^^) and scenes of a sexual nature. So don't flame if you're shocked. This is M rated.

With that, enjoy and please comment. Inspires me to write the second and final part quicker. :D

* * *

In The Shadows

She sat there on his lap. His hands on her bare thighs.

But she wasn't bare. Not yet. Not just yet.

Not that it mattered. Her nightdress bunched around her hips, scarcely keeping her modest. But how could she be modest when she sat on the King's lap in a nightdress? His fingers tracing invisible designs on her skin. Making her feel so very warm. So very wrong.

Her shoulders were cold. The neck of her nightgown had been stretched beyond all repair. And he had laid his tongue on her skin. Trailed kisses along her collarbone, his teeth scraping the curve of her neck.

But the windows were closed. Curtains drawn tightly shut. A fire roared against her back. That too was exposed, half the ties of her nightgown had been opened. Only a few candles had been left alight. She had extinguished most. She didn't want to see.

She had to feel, how could she not? But she didn't want to see. To look at him. To watch his expressions as he…as he removed her clothing. As he touched her. He didn't even know her name. She didn't even want this. It was all for…all for her _own good_.

"Stand up for me." Her nails dug into his bare forearms, shocked by his words. The only words she had heard since coming into the room. She had barely heard his command to go to him as her hand lingered on the wooden doorknob.

She had felt numb standing before him in her nightgown. His gaze on her barely covered body, appraising her as if she were in a brothel, lounging in a chair by the fire. Was this a common occurrence for him?

He was so calm, unmoved even. She didn't know how she had managed not to tremble. Why did it have to be so shameful? Did he feel nothing?

"Please, stand up." His bare fingers trailed down to her knees, the honey coloured skin contrasting with her pale skin. She would rather look at his hands than meet his gaze. But she managed it, slowly moving off the chair, feeling a lot colder than she did first entering the room. He had kept her warm, pulling her flush against him.

She stumbled but it wasn't just the loss of contact, it was the recollection of what was happening, what was about to happen.

_

* * *

_

The first time she laid eyes on him, she was far more interested in the man at his side. She curtseyed to the Fanelian King and managed to pleasantly murmur that it was such a great honour for him to visit their lowly home. Allen drunkenly laughed and she bypassed the garnet eyes that rolled with annoyance. Her critical gaze fell on the silent man.

_The maids directed Allen and their foreign companion to rooms whilst she aided the silent man up to his room, wondering just how she had become both prisoner and jailer in her own home. Such few blessings to count, how bittersweet it was to be grateful he stayed silent. She knew others raved, screamed, lashed out. He did nothing._

* * *

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expression. Triumphant, curious, lustful. She wanted it to be finished, quickly. But she knew he wouldn't let that happen. His twisted sense of integrity. How honourable was it to do what he was? To touch her? Hold her only doors away from…

He made her bite her lip as he stood, moving so she almost leaned against him. Keeping her eyes tightly shut as his hands skimmed over her sides, along her hips, down to the hem of her nightgown before sliding his hands up underneath and hooking his fingers over the only security she had from him. He heard her gasp as his calloused hands trailed down her sensitive skin, pulling with it her dignity, torturing her with a kiss to her jaw, making her feel him pant against her skin in anticipation.

His mouth trailed a set of modest kisses down the neckline of her shift as he bent, his hands moving lower, trailing behind her knees and letting the garment drop to the floor. Her eyes flew open involuntarily, whimpering as his hand slid over the back of her nightgown again to pull her flush against his hard planes, locking her in place.

She shook her head, as if he would pay any attention, his focus firmly on her face, his free hand tracing her cheekbones, the curve of her ear, down her jaw to her neck. Her hands balled against his shirt but she didn't move further, praying he would find a speck of decency.

It was an impossible prayer she realized as his teeth nipped against her bare shoulder. She flinched, biting her lip and hissing in shock as his warm, large hands cradled her hips. He walked backwards again, to sit on the chair once more and pulled her forward and onto his lap again. Her hand shot out to grab the back of the engulfing armchair as her hips met his.

She felt a trickle of blood as her teeth sank into her lip, barely able to stop her cry as his mouth covered a sliver of skin and kissed it so hard, so forcefully that her spine arched involuntarily. The firm, taut planes of his chest met her curves and she shivered, hating herself for reacting to him.

It was no longer a question of him. But others too. How often had she wished, waited for attention, affection and been left lying in a cold bed with her tears as company.

It had been so long.

_

* * *

_

The second time they met she had expected him. Allen was a regular fixture at their household so it made sense that his visitor at Fort Castello would in all probability join him for their weekly supper. Luckily the gods had given her the grace of having her husband in a fit state to entertain. Even Allen was a great deal more jovial.

_As a dutiful wife, she kept her comments to a minimum and let her husband partake of the vino as he wished. Meeting the King's gaze as they ate, her only thought was that Yukari would be a great deal more dazzled by the Royal company than she. She even waved the trio off happily as they went off to the local tavern for a _quick_ drink._

_Alcohol didn't bother her. She had seen her aunt fall victim to her husband's drunken temper, but _her_ husband was almost childlike when inebriated, so gentle and loving. It was by far preferable to anything else. The maids were used to her joining them in the kitchen, washing the dishes and cutlery for some sort of peace._

_She couldn't curse the young women for going to bed, it was already a late hour. And she, if anyone deserved the right to feel safe in her own home surely? _

_It was merely surprise she felt as she heard the heavy kitchen door open and saw the King enter. He was silent and she felt unsure of how to enquire after him and his companions. Allen on too many occasions had accused her of smothering her spouse, fussing over a _perfectly capable man._ The idiot needed a slap for all his blindness to the truth._

_The King had spoken instead, terrifying her in seconds with such a casual comment, "It must be painful, wife to your husband, and yet second to another." She had prayed in the fraying silence that he was mistaken, that he meant something else. Something other than the awful truth._

_Her terror made her such an easy target. He calmly stepped towards her, standing before her, with demon's eyes as he spoke, "How awful for you. How lonely." His hand stretched out to touch her and she moved before he could reach. She should have seen it then, realized just what she had done. But her sight fell short._

_Keeping her distance and wishing she could reach the door before him, she failed as he muttered with deceitful calm, "A mystic would have seen it."_

* * *

There was no room for discomfort. His hand, so heavy and warm, pressing against her back, just bordering on indecent. Not that propriety had any place between them. With only a thin nightgown keeping her from infidelity and the glint of her wedding band, she felt his lips brush her chin. Her eyes shut tight once more as his tongue tasted the trail of dried blood, moving higher to soothe her lip.

She transcended panic as she turned her face away, lowering her gaze so her hair slid to cover her traitorous expression. He didn't show any anger, too lost in what was to come, his mouth moving to her neck again, this curve yet to feel the pleasurable attention of his lips and tongue. She gasped once more as his hand slid up her back, moving over the material to her bare skin, again arching against him.

A whimper escaped her as his hand threaded in her hair, pulling gently so she tilted her head back, offering her neck to him. It was instinctive, to steady herself that she placed a hand on his bare arm, the other on his clothed shoulder, her grip tightening as he marked her as his, caressing skin that had been neglected for so long.

This time she kept her eyes open, his eyeline matching hers, meeting her emerald, clouded, guilty gaze. Every emotion running through her stalled at his expression. It wasn't exultant or smug. There was contentment in his eyes. And it frightened her more than leaving her comatose husband to stray from their bed.

His fingers were so nimble, so swift as he dragged the torn, slack neckline of her nightgown off her shoulders, leaving her even more vulnerable to him. She let his hand reach up, tearing her eyes from his to watch as his tanned, calloused hand curved round a part of her that surely belonged to her husband and him alone. It was shock that made her recoil and grip his wrist as tightly as she could.

She could sense for the first time he wasn't pushing her. Not that it raised him any further in her view. There couldn't be any respect for him after this. If this was his way of being kind then he truly was despicable. But then so was she.

_

* * *

_

Their third encounter was only worse. And her husband, lost in the middle of it all.

_She had fallen asleep, waiting for the sound of his horse, waiting for him to return, but she woke up cold and filled with panic. The groomsman insisted on attending, murmuring many aggravating comments about dangerous places for women. Her husband hadn't come home, did _his_ gender keep him safe?_

_It was only fuel for the fire as the man knew every place to knock, some doors were answered by name. And none knew. No one had seen him. Any chance of divine help passed her by with a cruel breeze, she had no way of knowing if her husband was alive or dead._

_They returned to the house and the groomsman had gathered the labourers and male household staff to search for him. The maids brought her countless cups of useless tea. Any panic over an arrogant monarch's veiled threat evaporated at the dizzying fear she was soon to be a widow._

_It was hours later. It felt like days. But they returned. _

_A crowd of people entered, Allen and the Asturian Queen among them. And her husband. It almost felt like a funeral procession, she barely knew who entered, only catching sight of her spouse's deathly expression. The guests certainly seemed that way, the Queen grave and still as she examined a man who had been found floating in the harbour an hour before._

_The Queen remained for another day, waiting for the Lord Évora to awake. He did so slowly, reaching for her hand and waking her into terror, believing his ghost was saying farewell. Her shriek woke the entire house, but made her husband laugh with such levity that she cried. _

* * *

Even though she looked away, she could picture his gaze, setting her stomach alight at the image as her fingers slid over his and moulded his hand to her breast. It was his groan this time, pushing her to lose her morals, to give into him. To pretend that it was acceptable. That it was intended to be this way.

A second later she forgot about whose morals or what her morals even were as his firm hand flexed over skin that hadn't been touched like that in an awfully long time. The feel of his laboured breath on her bare cleavage did nothing to help her feverish state. He touched her as if he was afraid she would push him away. But something in her had changed.

His slow, curious touch was so very different to what she knew, and barely at that. She had never seen her husband's expression whenever they had gone to bed together. It was always too dark and she usually kept her eyes shut. But with the man before her, she couldn't keep herself from staring at him, revelling in his rapturous expression.

An arm curled round her back, pulling her even closer so her hips dug right against his. His want for her was overpowering but she found herself lost in the feeling of her bare breasts crushed against his rough tunic. She wanted to feel his skin against her own. It was wrong but it was necessary, that she knew. So she followed the small voice that told her to participate actively.

A rough moan escaped his tight lips, his eyes flickering back up to meet hers as she slid a hand under his tunic, captivated by his taut skin that seemed to tense as her fingers explored. Her carriage of thought collapsed completely as she felt something tug on the most sensitive part of her breast. Her nails scored up his chest, feeling his tongue and teeth lavish her state of arousal so desperately that she gasped out his given name.

Cold sweat trickled down her back in shock and horror at what she had let herself do, at how wanton she had become. Forgetting just why she was doing this, allowing herself to be taken by a man that was not her husband. And to cry out his name. The Fanelian King's name as if they were lovers. As if it were a common thing to be sat on his lap, barely dressed and allowing herself to be seduced only rooms away from her husband.

* * *

"_I think he's lonely." Her husband whispered in her ear as they stood in their front porch accepting guests. Lord Gaddes de Évora was celebrating three decades of life. So he had decided—pushed by Allen, she thought—to celebrate in a style far more lavish than she was accustomed to. So lavish that the debauched crowd that rarely strayed from Pallas were gracing their humble home with their appearance. _

_She was terrified._

_The opulence antagonized her and the attitude of many guests set her teeth on edge, her palms itching for a slap. Many of the guests, so called friends and relatives of Gaddes had never before visited their home. Their sniffy, appraising expressions only pushed her to feel even further on edge. More so than the upper class cacophony of Pallas, she was terrified of the men her husband had kept away from, for over three months._

_Once again Allen was playing ignorant and angelic, daring to flirt with the Asturian Queen as best he could without attracting the inebriated King's attention. Millerna seemed amused by the cat and mouse routine which apparently she had been a great deal more involved in before her marriage. Then again, her husband or supposed ex-lover hadn't had a vice so terrible as her husband's. _

_But she had spent the night trying to seem happy and as light-hearted a wife was expected to be. She couldn't hover around her husband all night, not when his cousin Yukari kept dragging her to corners to gossip. Other ladies would instigate conversations and as hostess she had to seem delighted at the overflow of company._

_The mix of Pallas' finest gentlemen and ladies alongside the city's most depraved characters oddly and sickeningly mixed rather easily. Lady Fassa danced with a landlord of dilapidated accommodation by the harbour, places her husband visited at night. The pair however seemed to interact as if the repulsive man was part of the aristocracy himself. But that didn't bother her as much as it could have. Instead she had been trying her best to keep an eye on the Fanelian King without being noticed._

_Clearly she hadn't succeeded very well with the man concerned as he appeared from the crowd, took her hand and kissed it before asking her to dance. _

_Her eyes snapped immediately to her husband, desperately hoping he would see and call her over. But her stomach churned as she could only see an empty chair. Whatever the man gripping her hand could say or do, she feared a worse fate lay before her husband._

"_You didn't see me coming?"_

* * *

It was all for him, she reminded herself, screaming at herself not to cry. She could not let the manipulative bastard before her take any further advantage than he already had, than he was about to.

She didn't care that he had stopped. That he sat in silence, as if respectfully waiting for her. He was in no way respectable. He deserved no bow or curtsey under her household. No admiration from her husband for what the King had asked of her. Was taking from her.

"Tell me your name." He murmured in such a quiet tone, but even that made her flinch at the sudden noise. Looking away from him once more, she let her hair shield her face, shivering as it slid over bare, wet skin. It was made worse as he sighed in frustration, only making the sensitive skin react almost painfully, her teeth biting back a gasp, her spine stiffening to prevent a shudder.

But she arched against him, and sighed at the feel of the coarse material once more against her nakedness. "Please," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. She felt a smidgen of resolve return to her, not faltering at his attempt at seduction. She wouldn't let him—

"I want to know your name. I beg of you." His words carried a weight with them that sent panic fluttering to her stomach. It only angered her further that the nervous tension only heightened her keening need.

Why couldn't he have been brutal? Consented or not she would never be happy with the act that still loomed before her. If he took her by force, without a care to her needs or senses, then she would be able to nurse the feeling it wasn't her fault. But the heat between her thighs, the feeling of appreciation that her undergarments had been removed only frightened her more.

She loved her husband. Truly she cared for him like no other. This sudden knowledge frightened her. The tingles of pleasure and other sensations she had never…her marital life hadn't…

The Fanelian King could turn her into a quivering mess, amidst her dread, her disgust and his utter lack of morals. A headache would be there in the morning she knew. It would be the least of her problems. "Please, tell me your name."

She shook her head, why did he suddenly have the need to know her given name. It wasn't important. He was merely using her because there weren't any whorehouses nearby the Évora estates. Why did he want to know? Surely it was better if he didn't know. She didn't want him to know.

_

* * *

_

She was trapped.

_Whatever she had imagined the night she had fled from the kitchen, her stomach violently lurching as she raced up the stairs, she had never thought she would be so terrified. Bile rose in her throat as he stopped in the middle of the ballroom. Adjusting his grip on her hand he took another step closer and slid his second, startlingly large hand around her waist. It was appropriate where it rested on her back, but even with the folds of silk and his leather gloves, she couldn't hide her panic at how near he was._

_But she surprised herself, feeling something brewing under the fear she had repressed in the months leading up to her husband's birthday celebrations. It could no longer linger at the back of her mind. Standing before him and slowly guided by him in refined circles round other waltzing couples, she felt anger wash over her many insecurities._

_That first night he had expressed his knowledge of her husband's excursions, she had sat up looking out at the fields her husband owned, wondering when the King would go to his Asturian counterpart and inform him of Lord Évora's habits. If he did, then even Allen would be of no use. Not that the blonde idiot had done much to help either of them._

_Casting an attempted nonchalant glance to where she had last seen her husband, she inhaled wearily at the absence of him in an armchair. She couldn't begrudge him invitations to whomever he wished. They were wed for four years and he was six years older, in what way could she demand or forbid the entrance of the men who led him astray? Common sense had no place in their marriage._

_It was only worse being guided round the ballroom with a man who acted as her own personal torment, keeping her from seeking out her husband. And this very man knew just exactly what she was afraid of. Even Gaddes didn't know of her mystic background. He knew of her parents but he had no idea of her seeing capabilities. Not that she was strong enough to see clearly. _

_Otherwise she would have…_

_The mocking smile on the King's face was the closest thing she had to a confidant. He knew that despite her inability, she craved for knowledge of her husband, praying for him to return to her, to the rightful path. But that her sight could only show her intentions, not deeds. And her husband had been embroiled in his vice long before they had met and married._

"_You seem worried my Lady. Is something troubling you?" His concerned tone was nothing more than a mockery and she met the King's gaze evenly, not showing a speck of anger or spite as she replied, "I am well thank you Your Majesty. It is kind of you to ask." _

_Living with her husband, she had learned to fend off unwanted questions, suspicious onlookers with a gesture or her tone. Watching as the King's gaze abruptly left hers she found herself regaining some semblance of inner calm. She was certain she had gained ground. All she needed now was to keep her husband in sight. And stay out of the King's._

* * *

Even his thumb was calloused. From swordplay and practice of such martial arts she surmised, but she couldn't keep herself from pressing her breast into his grasp as his thumb circled the sensitive peak almost lazily. She kept her gaze on the shadows the fire projected, not wanting to see what his gaze offered. It was ridiculous but he felt almost familiar. His touch, his gestures so relaxed as though this was not the first.

And that thought alone made her shift in discomfort melding with the tingles down her back and across her skin.

"Mitsuru?" He asked, breaking her chain of hazy thoughts, confusing her as to what his question was. She shook her head a second later recalling he wanted to know her name. She wouldn't tell him. It wasn't his place to know. No matter what she was doing, how many gods she was angering, tarnishing herself and her husband, her name was not his to take.

Glancing to the curtains and back to his shoulder she saw him shake with apparent laughter before he moved his lips up to the curve of her neck. "Kaoru?" His breath so close to her skin only made her close her eyes again. It was all so wrong. It wasn't meant to be like this. In any way.

A startled cry escaped her as his mouth descended on a spot just below her collarbone, not even her husband had discovered. She shuddered, hating herself for the comparison and how her traitorous hand slid into his wild jet black hair, keeping his attention on her skin. As if in a trance she let her other hand slide down his tunic—so rough for one so regal—across his broad, strong chest to a set of strings pulled together, lacing the garment up. Her breath came in slow pants, clinging to any crumb of sanity, but her fingers curled against the cords and pulled harshly, opening his tunic and giving her a greater view of his skin.

His mouth moved up, placing slow but harsh kisses against her bare skin, then down and back up the line of her throat to her chin. "Naoko?" he muttered, his lips sweeping the tilt of her chin as his taunting gaze met her feverish one. She didn't even shake her head, too focused on the sudden awareness that the hand on her breast had moved.

Back on her thigh, his fingers slid up and down, his mouth so close to hers kept her from looking down. Not that she needed to witness any confirmation of the pulse throbbing between her legs that begged for attention. Only worse was the smile she felt his lips twist into against her chin, his breath against her skin. He would never kiss her. She wouldn't…just wouldn't allow it.

She jumped as his fingers slipped under her excuse of a nightgown and stroked the inside of her thigh. Her undergarment, crumpled on the floor at his feet and her thighs either side of his own only added to his advantage. Any self-recrimination fell silent as he moved again, losing her to their circumstances as she failed to breathe.

* * *

"_Your husband is being watched closely by Allen and his band of misfits my Lady, you have nothing to fear." The King's words made her stare at his impassive gaze and it took everything to stop her from wrenching out of his grip, or slapping him for his impertinence. King of Fanelia or not, he had absolutely no clue what her husband had done, what his _friends_ had put her through. _

_The man carefully guiding her through steps she had no interest in was completely unaware of how many nights she had been alone. He could never comprehend how many times she had waited for news of the worst sort. Even the servants had taken on an accepting air, as if expectant of their Master's death at any time. But the last four months had been a new beginning. For all of them._

_Surely the King could tell that if her husband was caught in the grip of his vicious mistress before all these delightful people, he would lose everything. It was the same concept the King's own threat hung upon. If Gaddes was found, he would be stripped of every title. The possibility of prison or execution for his habit turned her blood to ice and it because extremely hard to appear engaging to a man she would sooner push off a cliff._

"_Does he hurt you?" Jolted from her macabre thoughts, she met the powerful man's gaze and balked a second time at what apparently looked like worry. Or concern. Was he mocking her? He could see how precarious everything was for her, not only because of her husband but for her own life too. So how could he possibility find amusement in taunting her?_

_Clearly the Fanelian King was depraved enough to find amusement in others' pain. "Does he?" His voice, a whisper against her ear made her grip his shoulder tightly in anger, annoyed only further when he showed no sign of pain. Or even a recoil. His gaze was steady and unerring in its concentration on her. _

_It was so hard to conceal her hatred of this man, not having any sensible or acceptable reason. How could she say he had approached her inappropriately. That he knew of her husband's terrible secret and her own. That she was terrified of the next time he would do so. She shook her head a fraction and hissed, "He doesn't and it's none of your business what my husband does."_

"_It _is_ his business what you do my lady. He should be there to protect you from false gentlemen."_

* * *

There was no room for self hatred or any complex ideas as his fingers slid into the untouched curls between her thighs, shielded by her nightgown. No sound came from her paralyzed throat, every focus in her body on a part of her that had been devoid of attention for so long. His touches were fleeting, teasing, coaxing her to react. "Your name, my Lady."

She heard his words, despite the haze surrounding her. The glow he cultivated almost extravagantly. Her hips moved, desperate for further attention and she whispered his name once more, defiantly, her cheek against a patch of skin bared along his shoulder. "Van." Her eyes rolled back as he finally reached the place she desired, then growled as his fingers slid back down her thigh.

His soft, mocking laugh angered her, but she was too lost to think of just why their actions were so wrong. "Tell me your name." He nipped her earlobe, moving against her, pressing his clothed chest to her bare skin, setting her hips to push forwards in need. She looked at him then, the need clear in his eyes, no doubt mirrored in hers. But she wouldn't tell him. She _wouldn't._

She let her hand move of its own accord this time without surprise. Gripping his wrist tightly once more she pushed his hand forward, demanding wordlessly. He responded slowly and it was barely a touch but she moaned, her head rolling back at the feeling of some attention to her slick folds. "Hi…hi…_Hitomi,"_ she managed to whisper against his neck, pressing her mouth against his tanned skin to stop from crying out.

The next cry escaped her, his mouth on her neck and his fingers igniting a spark that had been cold for so long. She was too lost to care, her only focus on his wonderful, wonderful fingers. Never had she been happier that the man she straddled had worked so hard with weapons. The callouses only made her shudder deeper, pressing her weight further onto his legs. A distant echo in her mind recalled her husband had calloused hands too. But never had he…had he…

And the heat. She wanted her nightgown off her. The sheen on her back flickered hot and cold as she rolled her hips against his. He growled in response, shifting his centre to meet hers, throwing her forwards in pleasure. Her face an inch from his, she sighed as he rocked against her once more, her name rumbling from his chest.

"Hitomi."

A voice cried out somewhere that she should be struggling or keeping as still and unresponsive as possible. But she was lost in movement and pleasure she was yet to discover. She was caught in a haze, led into depravity by such sinful eyes. He murmured her name once more. _"Hitomi,"_ and she stilled. She had heard her name in such a way before. On her husband's lips. Not in the throes of what she used to think of as passion.

But _he_ too had been in a haze, not want or need. He had called out her name, desperate for her. She had thought so wrongly. It had been the only time he had spoken after stumbling back from the backwater dens.

Tears slid down her face at the horror of just how far she had led herself into temptation. The King was too shocked by the sudden twist of emotion as she stumbled out of his besieged embrace, hastily adjusting her improper state. She turned to the door, throwing on her dressing gown, to cover everything and shut the door behind her. Shock pounded through her body, making her reckless, not bothering to see if anyone had opened their door to see her leave the King's room.

Even in the empty corridor she was sure she could hear him call her.

"Hitomi."

* * *

A/N: What do you think her husband's vice is? Previews goes to those who guess correctly! Thanks again!

Sina xx


	2. The Empty Room

A/N: Suils Saifir here. Welcome back. Part 2 of … 3 most likely. Or even 4. Yes I'm awful.

Well done to the reviewers who guessed correctly. You are geniuses! Many other guesses had me in stitches, so an equal achievement. Enjoy!

* * *

The Empty Room

The library had to be safe. Here in the Asturian Palace, she prayed she would be granted sanctuary amongst the books and dusty shelves. From her past visits to the Palace with her husband, she could recall maids complaining about having to clean the dusty cavernous room despite the fact it was rarely visited, except by the Asturian King on occasion.

Well there was small chance of that occurring she knew as His Majesty was holding a council meeting with his wife, the Queen and various assorted courtiers and statesmen. Her husband was included along with Allen as prestigious Knights Caeli. It was a prideful moment but it was tapered by the fact she was alone in a very big Palace. Yukari's husband Amano, was not as important so Hitomi was left pretty much alone.

Her real reason for visiting the silent library was far from educational.

As they had arrived in Palas with Allen's ramshackle crew from Fort Castello, it was mentioned that the Fanelian King had decided to visit his old friends. Bile had risen in her throat and it was a very good thing that a Dragon had soared past the windows of the Leviship or else her husband would have noticed her behaviour. It would have quickly resulted in a fuss made of her. But she wasn't averse to her husband's consideration. It was Allen she worried about.

The Knight Caeli may have turned a frustratingly blind eye towards her husband's nocturnal activities, but he was sharp enough to connect her panic in combination with the dratted foreign monarch. It was so hard not to pray for the destruction of the Fanelian Palace all because of one man. She would do better to think positively, realistically.

His Majesty had been rejected by her over four months ago. No doubt it would have done great insult to his pride. Hitomi had endured many sleepless nights, waiting for her husband to be stripped of his title and privileges. But it seemed the King was not so angry to retaliate so hastily after her recoiling from him. Optimistically, she hoped that he would have found some other married woman to trifle with. Most likely he had and they would be far more willing to shatter their marriage vows.

Faced with the prospect of having to meet the man who had witnessed her in a state far from proper, Hitomi feared she would not be able to hide her indiscretions. She had enough to cope with keeping her husband on the straight and narrow. Still, he had been rather attentive in the past month or so. She prayed it wasn't because he had perceived her terror or even worse the reason for it. Sad as it was, she almost wished he hadn't improved as a spouse.

It was a hard task indeed to keep up appearances that she was a faithful wife. Even more so that she had nothing to hide from her husband, or because of him and his sordid deeds. It was also strange how Yukari had accepted at face value the flimsy explanation for Gaddes' brush with death.

_

* * *

_

Her husband's cousin, Yukari, was always a delight to visit. She and her husband held no airs or graces and were comfortable with their modest home. Both husband and wife treated her as if she was a blood relation and Hitomi had never felt more welcome.

_The only problem was their complete and rather tiring ignorance to her husband's _affliction._ Allen truly was an idiot, having apparently told Yukari that her cousin had been a victim of ruffians who begrudged the Knights Caeli. A severe beating had led to her husband had been knocked unconscious and thrown into the harbour. The imbecile had glossed over every frayed strand of truth as if his friend's behaviour was normal, acceptable even._

_It was enough to still Yukari's tongue on her impending widowhood. But there was one topic she couldn't keep from mentioning as the men went to have brandy and gamble. Hitomi felt a wave of nausea rise up as her cousin-in-law grinned delightedly and murmured quietly in between sips of tea, "What was it like? Dancing with the Fanelian King?" _

_Shock jolted down her spine and she was barely able to keep the tea stationary in its cup, trying not to shake as she searched for the calmest, most disinterested answer she could manage. "He was stately Yukari."_

"_Well I know that silly. But what did he say? How did he hold you?"_

_Having to inhale shakily at the redhead's last words she found herself under intense scrutiny as her companion gasped excitedly, gripping her free wrist. Yukari had absolutely no clue that her words had such twisted meanings. And it only brought back recollections of her bare thighs pressed against soft cotton, her overly sensitized breasts crushed to a firm chest and scratchy tunic, similar to what peasants wore._

"_Your silence is telling cousin. Even though we are both married, it hurts no one to admire those who—"_

"_He was wooden Yuka. His conversation was only politeness and I'm surprised he even knew mine and Gaddes' names. He only invited me to dance because I was the host's wife. Courtesy and nothing more."_

_The stifled giggle sent a chill up her heart as Yukari smirked before whispering teasingly, "Well if that was mere courtesy, I'd happily dance with the man." Hitomi flushed and prayed her husband's cousin would believe it to be shyness and nothing more. She was lucky as the fanciful woman smiled dreamily and leant back, sipping her tea delicately. _

"_Well he seemed very gentlemanly. Quiet though, I can't say I saw him dance with many other ladies. Though not for the want of trying. Why Shizuka practically threw herself at him. I wasn't surprised…" Hitomi let her close friend and confidant's voice trickle through her mind as she prayed to every god she could think of to keep her safe from scandal and from the man who was clearly a master at feigning good manners._

_It was only in the tawdry romance novels Yukari had leant her, and the ones she had pilfered from her mother's drawing room that such scandal happened. Or __if it did__ she was unaware of such things. Still, she had never heard a story from the Pallas gossips of such affairs. As she dipped a biscuit into her fine bone china cup she chided herself. Who would want to broadcast the fact they were being blackmailed into adultery and for worrisome reasons? _

_The only silver lining she had at that moment was that she had stopped herself._

_Even though she had heard him call her back to the room and it was only once, she had heard it in his voice. A tone she had heard her husband use, achingly never with her. The King however had kept her moving, away from him and back to where she belonged. What had happened was not enough to ruin her completely. So she hoped._

* * *

Casting a glance along an aisle of bookshelves, she noticed that the floor was covered in a fine layer of dust. It was odd, thinking back to what she had overheard of the maids. Perhaps it was a section the King didn't want cleaned. That would have been enough to make her turn her heel and walk away. But she didn't.

Raising her skirts a fraction she toed the floor and found her shoe left an imprint in it. The first occasion in a very long time, she felt a childish glee as she moved along the aisle of books with her skirts hitched slightly, not enough to show her ankles but just so they wouldn't sweep the floors. It was with a giddy anticipation she turned to see her footprints in the dust.

She walked the length of the bookshelf before wandering into another aisle where the floor had been dusted. Her attention was caught by a pile of books that had been taken off a shelf and placed precariously on a ledge attached to the bookshelf. It wasn't the misplaced nature of the texts that interested her. It was the writing on the spine.

Her heart stilled for a second as she traced a finger over a spine and found herself mouthing the word before reaching for the book. It was a Mystic book. A book she had known so well during childhood, begging her mother for a nightly story from the assortment bound in this very tome. A smile came to her face as she leafed through various illustrated pages. As much as she wanted to sit and read, she knew it would be unsafe to be caught reading a book that was in a tongue undecipherable to most.

She shuddered at the recollection of watching a Mystic woman burn at the stake. All because she couldn't afford to bribe the executioner. Not that she could forget the pointless prejudice and fear against her mother's clan.

Her hand stretched out to place the book back on top of the haphazard pile when a loud noise crashed throughout the entire room and shook her. The book fell from her hands and hit the floor. She could only pray that the sound was muffled by the mass of bookshelves. Dropping to her knees she reached for the book, aware that she could not be caught even looking at the book or the shelf it had rested on, the texts were all clearly in Mystic and Draconian.

Sighing, she reached for the book. She stilled as her fingers slid over the leather binding as a pair of boots came into view. Squeezing her eyes shut she breathed in and hoped whoever had found her would have absolutely no clue as to the nature of the books she was surrounded by. She didn't dare look up at her arbitrator but her body froze as she heard a deep voice murmur quietly, full of amusement, "Whilst you're down there Lady Évora..."

The silence was deafening as she looked up at the man who had tormented her for months unconsciously. The smirk on the Fanelian King's face made her want to cry and slap him in tandem. Maybe the book could be a useful weapon, she pondered as he extended a hand to help her up.

_

* * *

_

It had been so very cruel when her husband had woken her in the middle of the night with a kiss. With the rarity of his libidinous needs, she had hoped he would keep away from her, long enough to settle her issues with what she had done only doors away with a dreadful man. Luck just didn't seem to be on her side.

_She couldn't refuse him and nor did she want to. She loved Gaddes fiercely, enough to lie and perjure herself to protect him despite his evil vice. For once his clothes didn't stink of the heady perfume. And his eyes were focused, on her. It was the first time since her wedding night she was anxious about her husband joining her in bed._

_As he slid his hands under her nightgown she had shifted impatiently. Terrible as it was she couldn't keep herself from thinking about a man who only nights before had done things she had never experienced before. Yukari's over indulgence of details about her own married life was very different to familiarity with the acts themselves. _

_She still loved her husband. Hitomi felt nothing more than utter loathing for the man who had extorted her into entering his guest chambers in her own home. Only yards from her marital bed and her husband. There was no sickly attraction or anything ridiculous towards the Fanelian King. But his deeds had caused her such turmoil that her husband taking what was his to take no longer seemed as joyous as it once had._

_Her husband never removed his nightshirt when he took the time to actually pay attention to her in their bedchamber. Likewise her nightgown was never removed or tossed to a corner in the height of passion. It was pushed up over her waist and bunched together as he focused on his own pleasure. She knew it wasn't malicious, maybe it was all he knew. But as he slid over her, his mouth pressing kisses to hers, she felt her breasts sting with the lack of attention._

_Even after reading tawdry novels she had snuck from her mother's room, their coupling was never exhausting. She was never awake until dawn. There were times when she didn't receive the same euphoria as her husband, but she accepted it. What could she do to resurrect the circumstances? Her husband would without fail make love to her and fall asleep straightway afterwards._

_This time she wasn't so sure whether she wanted him to or not._

* * *

Staring at the gloating expression on his face, she could only wish her sight was stronger. If she had seen this awful situation coming she would have stayed in the sitting room, silent only for the nervous sips of tea under the gaze of the Asturian Queen's sister and her various entourage. Mystic or not, Hitomi was always worried in the company of fellow aristocracy that someone would see past her façade and realize the truth.

Her mystic past no longer seemed as worrying as it once did when she had first married Gaddes. Six long years she had suffered with hiding her husband from prying eyes, stifling any questions as to his erratic behaviour and the sightings of him stumbling around Pallas as if he were asleep. If only he was afflicted by sleepwalking.

Gathering the remnants of her courage and the book firmly in her grasp she stood up as gracefully as possible. It was hard enough with the anger coursing through her lashing against the shaky foundations of guilt, but she managed to rise and sidestep the attempt at a helpful arm. No doubt he would try and tarnish what remained of her honour. She had rejected him, no doubt he would do everything to destroy her.

But she had left with a modicum of honour. Tiny as it was, it remained and she could not let him take everything away from her. She wouldn't.

With a deep breath she met his gaze for the shortest moment possible, nodding and curtseying, switching her gaze to a far away bookshelf. She didn't want to see the smirk on his face or any other expression than indifference. How desperate she was for anonymity from him. It was sickening just how terrified she felt, cold sweat sinking into her dress, pulling the corset ties even tighter. The rough feeling of the ties only made her squirm as she stepped away.

"Is something wrong my Lady? You seem agitated."

It took every speck of propriety not to hurl the book at him. The flicker of pride at placing the hefty tome back where it belonged turned to smoke as she stepped back from his approach, feeling a bookshelf pressing against her back. A moan rose, choking her throat as she prayed to any available god to stop the man before her.

_

* * *

_

As the Leviship had slowly begun its descent to the airfield behind the Asturian Palace, Hitomi found her stomach sinking in tune with the Levistones. If she had had no knowledge of the Demon's arrival at the Palace coinciding with theirs, she would have taken great joy in the attention her husband gave her. His arms wrapped tightly round her, his hands covering hers over the ornate and largely futile steering wheel.

"_Grip it a bit harder." He muttered, his fingers bending her own and sending a glare to the sniggering crew members lounging nearby. "Like that." Again, a few of the more unruly men coughed to stifle their laughs but she wasn't interested in feeling embarrassment. She could only focus on the wonder that was her husband's full attention on her. Well, she was trying to._

_The Fanelian King was nothing more than a nuisance. She would do better to smile at the feel of her husband's rough unshaven cheek pressed against her as he whispered in her ear. Tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder she whispered calmly, smiling against his ear, "I think you forgot to shave this morning."_

_Her smile only widened as his hands turned the wheel that would belong on a ship that voyaged across the seas, his cheek rubbing against her in retaliation before his lips brushed under her ear. "Forgive me dearest, I was far too busy admiring your sleeping form. I feared you were far too distracting and would have only injured myself if I had attempted to shave." The chuckle in the back of his throat that usually sent butterflies through her stomach – still after six years of marriage— only sent a chill down her spine. Her husband, when he wasn't lost in a haze of smoke could be affectionate, but never like this._

_Whether or not he was playing up to their overly nosy audience, Hitomi felt her skin crawl as Gaddes' behaviour reminded her horrifically of a man she loathed with an almighty passion. Overhearing Allen mention the arrival of her own personal demon at the same time as theirs to Pallas, she had briefly pondered slipping a small dagger into her bodice. She didn't think she was being melodramatic. _

_If her prayers hadn't been answered and the perverse King hadn't found a woman of depraved morals aligned with his own ideas, then she would need to protect herself. Her father had taught her as a young woman that men were not always gentle and respectful to ladies. Hitomi fought the bile rising in her throat, her husband's arms slipping round her waist and pulling her flush against him. A knife might be her only line of defence._

* * *

Once more her sight struck her too late as she felt a cool, gloved finger brush against the hollow of her neck. There was no time for panic to flood her senses as the finger slid up the centre of her throat. He must have felt her swallow nervously, still not looking at him as a low chuckle escaped him. Keeping her gaze away from him she could only feel his leather clad finger rise over the curve of her chin.

The shudder was so hard to repress, her hands moving behind her to grip the bookshelf as his thumb joined in, swiping across her bottom lip. However long it had been since he had been a guest in her home, so atrocious too, her bruised lip was no longer because of his ministrations. In her anxious turmoil she had bitten her lip too many times to count.

And yet his thumb running back and forth over it did not hurt. It only served to remind her of where his mouth had touched her. Where his fingers had been. The second shudder mingling with a gasp as he took another step forward, pressing his weight gently against hers pushed her further into the panicked recesses of her mind.

"Do I make you nervous?"

She refused to reply. He could try whatever he wanted, but she would not say a word. He was despicable and his title was a farce when he acted like many of the men who lured Gaddes to the backwaters of Pallas for waking dreams and nightmares. Did he enjoy torturing her? Was he so depraved he found amusement in pursuing her emotional breakdown?

"Hitomi?"

Her neck cracked with the speed she moved her head, snapping her gaze up to meet his, fury pulsing through her veins and stopped. It was horror that slowed down the raging anger, ripping away the numbed feeling she had cultivated against the truth. His eyes were so expressive, so much more than her husband's ever were, even when he was sober. The truth of his gaze weighed far heavier than any of her terrified musings.

Lust lingered in his eyes, but there was more to it. The King stared down at her as if he had ached at being apart from her so long. It wasn't the lack of affection from her husband, or the tawdry tales Yukari was so fond of retelling about such a person's escapades, it was something deeper. The blame lay firmly with the man before her, his ministrations had scarred her so deeply she had woken up never feeling so alone, drenched in sweat and aching for something.

_

* * *

_

Her mind had thrown itself into depravity full heartedly.

_No longer did she wake slowly and find herself unsurprised by the lack of warmth her husband rarely shared with her. The past three nights she had woken before dawn, not even reaching in hope for her husband. He was lost to her as she had been to him for so long. Instead she would wake, jolting upright fraught with longing. Seconds later she would lie back down and curl under the covers, trying not to cry over her subconscious' obsession with a man who had tried to destroy her marriage. Even though she had stopped him from taking what he had demanded of her, her mind seemed eager to rectify it with all sorts of scenarios._

_This night she had woken with his name hovering on her lips. Sick to her stomach, she ran to the bathroom and gave way to the bile rising in her throat as she hated herself for feeling gratitude to her husband's absence for once. She would not be able to sleep again that night. Rather, she was too afraid of what would happen, what torture her mind would conjure if she did._

_Hitomi didn't dare visit her husband's study. It wasn't forbidden to her, nothing was with her husband. But she knew she would not be able to look Gaddes in the eye after lying entwined with someone else and screaming that man's name, all in her subconscious. Even though she was the mystic, she feared that sooner or later he would sense what she had done._

_On that thought, she decided the kitchen would be the safest place to brood and attempt to forget why she kept waking up, drenched in sweat, panting, and worse than anything—wished she hadn't left the King's room that night. Padding down the stairs, she pulled her dressing gown belt tighter round her, the hallway seemed colder, and the corn hadn't yet been harvested. It was strange as the front of the house was south facing so even in midwinter it wasn't that cold._

_As she took the last few steps down to the entrance hall she stopped for a second in shock, before racing towards the front door that had been left ajar._

_Her husband lay face down, keeping the large, imposing wooden door open with his body half in and half out of the entry to their home. _

* * *

"Don't touch me." She whispered, turning her neck away from him again, her hands gripping the bookshelf behind her as hard as she could so as not to slap him. Whatever fantasy she had come up with about carrying a knife for protection, she knew she would never try anything, nor would she have the chance. He would be too fast for her. She couldn't bear to think of what he could do if she actually managed to injure him.

Even with her hostile posture, her words, every part of her screaming that she wasn't happy with the King's attention, he paid it no notice. Instead he slid an arm around her waist, moving calmly so that the bottom of her corset pressed harshly against an outreaching curve of the bookcase. His free hand slid up her cheek, the leather glove skating over her jaw and into her mass of curls.

"Please." She muttered, hating him for being so cruel and hating herself for not doing anything to push him away as his tongue slid past his lips, trailing up the side of her neck. Again her sight had failed her, but part of her knew if her hair had been loose, it would only be harder for her to resist. It was only made worse by the fact that he knew it. One hand curling round the back of her neck, the soft leather trailing up and down her bare skin; the other hand gripped her hip, his arm taut around her back.

Her eyes closed. She didn't want to see anything. She didn't want to think, to compare the gentle fumbling of her husband to this man before her, pressing his taut, hard form to hers; crushing her to a bookshelf in a deserted room. His teeth scraped against her earlobe, his tongue outlining the shell, her head tilting back in unconscious invitation. "I can't…" she hissed, opening her eyes and turning her mouth away from his.

He was undeterred, his lips finding her pulse and making her jolt with the ministrations his teeth and tongue provided. The King's breath against her ear, his fingers sliding round the back of her neck, dipping to the back of her dress where the laces of her corset began, ending with the feeling of his hips cradling hers. He slid a hand down her back in search of her hand, parting her fiercely taut fist and sliding his gloved fingers between her own bare ones.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

_

* * *

_

She didn't hear herself scream, barely registered the presence of servants she had woken in her terror. Her voice could barely rasp out her husband's name and her hands couldn't let go of _him__, as she tried to cradle his lifeless form in her arms. He was so cold, her hand seemed to burn his icy cheek and she felt her voice recede further into despair as his eyelids remained still._

_The stewards all wearing nightshirts and in different states of dress managed to pry their master from her terrified grip. Her husband had come home in varying states of consciousness, but he had never been so consumed by the smoke to collapse in the entrance to their home. She seemed to be the only one outwardly affected by the awful pallor on her husband's face and how cold he felt to touch. _

_More servants had woken, moving hastily to their posts. No one was surprised by their master's behaviour, some even passed by the men carrying Gaddes without a sound or change of expression. The house had never more felt like a funeral home. Hitomi and the servants were nothing more than his pallbearers. It showed just how far behind she was in her husband's priorities that he had broken his vow of moderation._

_She had never expected her husband to completely abstain from his misdemeanour. In its filtered form, it was rather popular in Palas, even with the young ladies. But the shacks set up behind the wharves were not set up for the high society debutantes. A bed and a pipe were provided, but there was no guarantee of warmth, shelter from the rain, or even disease. Not that the people who went there were looking for luxury._

_Watching as the servants bowed to her and left their marital bedchamber, she felt the scream she had swallowed for six years rising up her throat. It had taken a month for her to realize that her husband wasn't leaving their home for another woman, or another man. She had quickly come to realize that there were deeds far darker than adultery. After being married for so long, she found she couldn't look at her husband's relaxed face. _

_Why was it he could be peaceful and she was mired in terror and anger? She edged slowly over to her side of the bed and sat in wait, hoping that once again her husband would wake from the dead and she could keep a hold of her sanity for a short while longer._

* * *

"Tell me Hitomi."

His gloved fingers slid up her neck once more to cradle her chin, forcing her to look at him. The strokes of fear were replaced by anger as she remembered just how much torture he had inflicted on her. "I demand that you let me go at once Your Majesty." The flicker of pride at her forceful tone disappeared at the lopsided smile coming from the man pressing himself against her. "I demand—"

"So imposing for a woman who married into nobility. You have assimilated perfectly into our ways. It must be trying to hide your family history from the voraciously inquiring ladies at court. Does your husband know of your inheritance?"

His mocking tone only made her grip the bookshelf behind her, but any reassurance from the aged wood was surpassed by the fact the one hand entwined with his was squeezed harder. His eyes were defiant in a way as though she was improper for denying him what he wanted.

"Are you not used to the word _no_ Your Majesty?" Her eyes widened a second later at the realization of her challenge. Cursing herself inwardly for sounding what he probably inferred was an attempt at coquetry, she flinched as his mouth brushed the top of her gown, his eyes lowered as if he were penitent.

His words however betrayed whatever twisted attempt he was struggling with. "Forgive me Lady Hitomi, I am merely incensed by the injustice you suffer at the hands of your husband."

"How dare you," she hissed staring at him, moving her hand to grip his shoulder and pull him up to her eye level, keeping his mouth away from any part of her skin. "How dare you stand before me and mock my husband. How dare you accuse him of abuse and other such sins?"

It wasn't the sudden abundance of space he provided her with, nor was it the sensation of bile sliding back down her throat that she noticed. Instead her skin prickled as if she had stepped into the path of a howling wind. He stared down at her and she couldn't stop herself from looking away. His gaze was so very different to the man who had invaded her person in every sense of the word only seconds before.

It was an expression she had seen before. It had been years since she had met someone's gaze and felt the desperate need to hold them.

* * *

"_So it is settled."_

_Aged nineteen, her father had felt she was lucky to even find a man willing to marry her. He seemed overjoyed by the Lord's attentions to her and their family. Hitomi was fairly pleased, she wouldn't be stepping into another woman's shoes, there would be no step-children to avoid, or overbearing spinster sisters to fend off. Lord Évora was a gift from the gods, her father proclaimed._

_Gaddes as he asked her to call him was fairly comfortable with their small home, despite his ancestry, title and the sprawling lands he called his own. He was happy to accompany her to the market, furtively buying her a sweet bun or a chocolate pastry with a sly look on his face. He liked the fact she could ride a horse without a saddle, and was amused that she struggled to ride in a ladylike manner._

_Her family wouldn't even be able to provide a significant dowry for a man of Gaddes' eminence. But he didn't mind at all. He argued he would be happy with the herd of sheep and two thoroughbred stallions that her family had trained. Her mother had raised concerns immediately, questioning the man's true motives, asking why he was still unmarried at 26 rotations and more so was happy to settle for a woman of no lineage. Her father had remained silently affronted at the indirect insult. _

_Hitomi was not deliriously happy or buoyant with love for her future husband. She was content and was happy with what the gods had given her. Her grandmother had told her of the horrors Mystics had faced when she was younger and Hitomi was glad for the concealment she had with her parents. She smiled as Gaddes kissed her cheek in farewell, knowing she would be leaving with him in two days to come._

_It was only as her father shut the front door behind him, announcing he was going up to the fields, she turned to smile at her mother, amused by her father's incapacity for emotion. A comment on her lips of how her father would have to leave the wedding so as to show a hint of emotion failed. Her mother's olive gaze showed no humour or even wistful happiness for her daughter._

_Staring at her foreboding expression in silence, she stood up and walked across the room to her mother's chair. Embracing the woman who stood up to meet her, she stiffened as she heard her mother speak in a language even her father was unaware of, "Be careful."_

* * *

"I wouldn't dream of insulting you my lady. Your husband however," He stepped forwards once more, whispering fervently, "Should be ashamed of his treatment of you."

Hitomi knew that he was insulting Gaddes once more but she was fixated by his expression, the almost bleakness reflecting in his exotic eyes. There was something in his words, in his eyes, in the step he took towards her, pressing her once more against the bookcase. But her sense of personal space wasn't important as a glove once more cupped her cheek. She didn't know why she closed her eyes, it just seemed the right thing to do.

Her lips tingled in anticipation, for some reason she couldn't recall why it was wrong to kiss this man, why she should have pushed him away, how she should have left the room at once. His gloved hand caressed one cheek, a thumb sliding over her cheekbone, the other cheek blossomed at the feeling of his warm breath. The hand that wasn't entwined with his came loose to reach up and grip his jacket.

She was preparing herself, but for what?

"Come to my room."

She heard the words echo in the empty room but her senses were clinging to the sudden pressure on her lips, his mouth sliding over hers, taking her bottom lip between his. The hand on his jacket tightened, slipping for a second before rising up to his shoulder and clutching the material for all its worth. A gasp was barely allowed to escape as his teeth nibbled on her now swollen lip, soothed a second later by a smooth, warm stroke of his tongue.

The sensation of the smooth leather on her cheek slid down to her neck, before curling round to cradle her head, guiding her to move with him as he slid his tongue once more against her lips. A pleasured noise managed to leave her mouth, opening to allow him entrance. She barely had enough time to regain any semblance of a breath before one gloved hand gripped her neck tighter, the other pulling her flush against him, against the part of him that betrayed his desire.

His tongue clashed with hers, forcing her to respond, curling around hers and stirring her in a way her husband never had. Her husband… The words meant something, but the man pressing so harshly against her was enthralling. She was given no time to breathe as his tongue parted her lips again, searching desperately for hers.

It was the only thing she could focus on, if it weren't for the niggling feeling something was missing. Small and insignificant as the thought was, it fell aside to the rocking motion the King had started, pressing his hips and hardness firmly against her stomach. She whimpered, unable to do more than shiver before the hand round her neck slid down over her back to curl round her hip tightly.

His mouth crushed hers so urgently that for a second, Hitomi wondered if it was merely her hormones making her feel dizzy but she quickly realized he had lifted herself onto the bookshelf, moving swiftly to crush her against the ends of stiff-backed volumes. His tongue heatedly clashed with hers before leaving her bruised mouth to the cold, sharp air. It was wrong to feel desolate at the loss of his heated lips. She could only writhe at the snare of his teeth against her skin, trailing down to the brocade at the top of her modest gown.

The unhurried haze of pleasure that had engulfed her exploded as his hands tugged down the corset of her dress with ease, baring her breasts to him. At that a hand shot out to push him away but she couldn't. She couldn't find the strength or the will to push him as his tongue circled her nipple already reacting to the cold. Hitomi found the collar of his ceremonial jacket and tugged as his teeth sank into her skin.

"Mine." The sound rumbled from his throat, mingling with her harsh, pained cry. The slow pulse of blood from the wound, drifting over her pale skin brought stinging tears to her eyes, submerging her vision. She could barely make out the teeth marks and stark stain of blood seeping across her pale skin, but it sharpened frighteningly as she lifted her head to glare at the King.

The threat on her tongue froze as she met shockingly viridian eyes. A second later she could see the rings of black and flecks of something inhuman in his eyes as his mouth violently crushed hers once more. She pulled away, gasping with pain. She flinched then as he took another step forwards and slowly raised her bodice to the proper, modest height. His glove smeared the blood congealing over her breast, Hitomi didn't even feel tears gather, too stunned to do anything.

Her unsteady legs barely caught her weight as she moved off the bookshelf, unable to take her eyes off the man walking away from her.

_

* * *

_

It had been a brisk walk from the leviship to the Asturian Palace.

_Hitomi was doing her utmost not to break into a run, terrified that a man on an apocalyptic horse would appear before them and denounce her husband. All because she had snubbed him. Hadn't the King taken enough of her dignity without forcing her to completely desecrate her marriage vows?_

_Not that the appearance of the Fanelian Monarch was her only worry. It had only been a few months since the Asturian Queen had come to their house at a shockingly awful hour to reassure her that her husband wasn't dead. Millerna Aston was far from stupid, but could she have pieced the clues together to realize just what the Évora estate hid from everyone. _

_Gaddes as usual was his calm, cheerful self. It was the one thing that had irritated Hitomi; if he was so calm and at peace with the world, why did he need to mix with the desperate and depraved men of Pallas, lost in smoke filled dreams? Her hand in the crook of his arm tightened in futile anger and she was taunted further by an easy smile on her husband's lips._

_A kiss was planted at the top of her forehead, forcing her to use every ounce of self-preservation to smile back merrily. She had to hold up the pretence that her marriage was a blissfully happy one; that her husband wasn't in love with opium more than her, nor that she had been far more acquainted with the Fanelian King than was proper for a married woman. Her husband's cool hand patted the one in the crook of his arm as if in reassurance. Hitomi met his gaze and smiled ironically, finally finding a speck of comfort from the aggravating smirk on Gaddes' face._

_Maybe their sojourn in the Asturian Palace would be pleasant. _

_Just as long as she kept herself as far away from Van Fanel as possible._

* * *

Dinner had been awful.

She had managed to eat and keep her food down. All the while avoiding the smug gaze of the Fanelian King. Karma was laughing at her, the Asturian Queen its instrument, having placed her tormentor opposite her husband. Every inch of her self-control had been channelled into using her knife in the correct manner and not throwing it at the man she desperately loathed.

Nor had it helped the fact she had been forced to change her gown, the first one had been ripped off the second she had shut the door to the chambers she shared with her husband. After changing gowns, she had sat on the cold bed, clutching a rumpled cream gown in her hands, her thumb brushing over the blossom of red across the top of her bodice. It had taken a generous helping of concealer and a fair few tissues to stem the bleeding, wipe it off her skin and try to hide the mark. Gods forbid what would happen if Gaddes saw it.

_If._

But she had been graced with the barest handful of luck as it seemed it was custom in Palas, especially in the Palace, that the ladies changed into a different gown for dinner. Her eyes narrowed at the pheasant on her plate at the realization that the agonizing man smirking at her oblivious husband had undoubtedly known that. And had probably revelled in the thought of her panicking at having to change dresses after he had viciously bitten her and stained one of her best gowns. She couldn't bear to think of how she would manage to wash it without arousing suspicion or any notice of the blood stain.

With having to watch her husband, making sure he was free of any opiate haze and trying to ensure it continued without appearing as _interfering_; she felt absolutely exhausted by the added burden of trying to keep the King from destroying her husband on a spiteful whim. She hadn't dared even look in his direction all through the meal, sweeping past his gaze once to meet the Queen's and found a gut-wrenching loss of appetite. It was sheer chance that no one saw her fork drop into her lap as the swollen bite mark over her breast stung terrifically.

But whatever help Destiny had given her over the course of the meal was torn from her as the meal came to an end and her husband informed her with a jaunty kiss to the cheek that he would be joining Allen and his men in town for a few drinks. She had no need of her Mystic talent to tell her that her husband was an idiot. More so to leave her with a man that seemed hell-bent on having her in his bed.

It was for the shortest moment possible that Hitomi wished her husband was the slightest bit more intuitive. She felt desperate for him to recognize any sign of her escalating panic, completely aware that the man sat opposite Gaddes with a smirk that itched for a slap would not be joining the men visiting the local taverns. She knew instinctively that he would be in his chambers, waiting for her.

xoxox

It had taken over an hour after her husband had left her in their guest chambers to actually leave the room herself.

In no way was she anticipating what was to come in any way that could be described as optimistic. But she was terrified of setting one foot wrong. Questions swirled in her pained mind.

What if Gaddes returned early? What if he didn't fall into his addictive lover's arms and came back to find an empty bed chamber? What would happen if a servant caught her? Or a guest?

Worst were the uncertainties surrounding the King, waiting for her in his guest chambers. Did he make a regular occurrence of seducing demoralized wives who lost their husbands to _others_? She didn't care about him. She merely wanted to leave the Palace, lie in her own bed, curled up against her own husband.

Tears pushed against her closed eyelids, but she held firm.

She would go to the Fanelian King's room and negotiate with him. Surely there were women far more attractive than she was, maybe he wanted a wife and took out his frustration on her because she and Gaddes _appeared_ to be so perfect together. _He_ knew it was false, Van knew just how false her marriage was, but he still seemed to want to see all the shattered pieces fall to the floor and crumble to dust.

She had kept to the edges of corridors and strained as hard as possible to hear any noise. It was only a few turns but she felt as if she had trekked across a continent to reach the door she was terrified by.

Her hand rested on the wooden handle and she pulled.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it. The Cliffhanger was completely unintentional. Life is a mess at the moment. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter and gave my miniscule ego a dramatic boost. The review whore in me is still out partying.

Review if you want a V/H ending :P And I really want to know what you think of Gaddes' vice ^^

Suils.


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